


[from blue to hazel brown]

by bisexual_dean_winchester (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble? I guess?????, M/M, Oneshot, Phan - Freeform, Phan Soulmate AU, phan oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6455800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bisexual_dean_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan likes old things. He likes antique shops and used bookstores. He likes mystery novels, and has everything except his life figured out.</p><p>Phil likes comic books, and fluffy armchairs. He likes his job, and his life in general. Well, he tries to convince himself that he does anyways.</p><p>Soulmate AU where the eyes of your soulmate are tattooed onto your arm from birth, they open when your soulmate is born, and grow as the person they belong to does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[from blue to hazel brown]

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly: Title creds to [are eyes, oh so different] by Lepii Anne on www.allpoetry.com
> 
> Secondly:  
> Thank you so much to Silvis, for betaing this story (and all my other ones) I really need it.
> 
> Thirdly:  
> If you want to use this as a story prompt, or want to write a soulmate AU based on this PLEASE DO I LIKE TO INSPIRE CREATIVITY.

Are eyes, oh so different  
from blue to hazel brown  
ice blue, so full of vitality and anticipation  
speckled grey, alluring and playful  
dim green, distinct and haunting  
honey brown, soft and tender  
marbling brown, filled with warmth and security  
Eyes, are they oh so different? 

It was in his early youth when Phil’s eyes opened for the first time. Not his own, of course, but the ones engraved on his wrist. They were small eyes, those to be expected of a newborn, and Phil had come running off the playground as fast as his little four year old legs could carry him. When he had tumbled into his mother’s arms, she had asked “What has you in such a rush, Philly?” as she lifted him onto her knee.

“It’s my eyes mummy! They’ve opened!” he had exclaimed, looking down at his pale wrist in wonder. It had hurt, of course -everyone had warned him of that- but it didn’t matter much now. “I thought it was a bee, mum.”

She had hummed her reply, and taken his wrist gently in her hand. She had mother’s hands: soft, and gentle, always gentle.

“They are pretty eyes, aren’t they, Philly?”

Phil had nodded. They were pretty.

“Why don’t we go out for ice cream, yeah? To celebrate?”

“Does Martyn have to come?” he had asked, secretly hoping that his older brother would. He wanted to show off his eyes.

“Only if you want him to.” She had smiled and taken his hand in hers as they walked over to the car.

“I think he should come, plus I want to show him that my eyes opened.” Phil smiled as his mother buckled him into his car seat.

“Okay,” she had said as she turned the keys. “We can pick your brother up on our way there.”

The ice cream was incredible, and the satisfaction of finally having his eyes open was even better.

He thought about it as he went to sleep that night. Someone, somewhere, had been born that day. The person who he was meant to be with for the rest of his life.

***

Dan had been born with the eyes burned into his wrist already open.

Long black lashes and deep blue were what he was destined for, but destiny seemed to be taking its time with him.

He was sixteen, and if his soulmate was out there, he or she must have been very far away.

Most people were already in their own little happy lovebird world, but he was more alone than ever.

The curiosity was killing him.

Who did those eyes belong to?

A boy?

A girl?

Dan had watched those eyes grow up. He had seen the slight change in color back when he was ten, had seen them literally grow into the eyes of the person he would one day meet and love, but to whom they belonged? He had no idea.

***

Phil watched the eyes from the day they had opened on his wrist.

He had watched them change from the dark blue all babies are born with to a dark, chocolate brown color. 

He had seen every change, but he had never actually seen them.

He was 20.

He was at university, studying linguistics.

He was _happy._

Well, at least he tried to be.

Phil stepped out of the lecture hall and onto the concrete steps outside. He took a deep breath and descended the staircase quickly. All he wanted to do was get back to his dorm, finish that night’s worth of homework, and relax.

But he couldn’t focus.

That day in his linguistics class they had discussed the origin of the word soulmate.

His professor had led a discussion about the term and the concept.

“The concept,” he had said, “has been around for over a millennium. One of the first theories about a “soulmate” comes from early Greek mythology. The legends say that originally humans were born with four arms, four legs, and two faces, and we were happy and complete. But Zeus became jealous of the humans and their perfect happiness, and split them apart with his lightning. However, Prometheus, a Titan who thought Zeus was far too harsh and too often succumbed to jealousy, pitied the humans, and so gave them their one clue to their other half: a perfect copy of their eyes on their wrist.

“The term “soulmate”, however, was not coined until much after that, in the early eighteen hundreds.”

Everyone had nodded, and a few had asked questions, but Phil was still hung up on the myth.

Who was his other half?

Would he ever find them?

***

Dan sighed.

Finishing high school was supposed to be a good thing, right?

For him it was just a big smack in the face asking the unanswerable question: “How are you going to make your life worth it now?” He wasn’t ready to make his life worth it just yet.

He was with his family, visiting his Grandmother in Manchester.

His mother wanted him to pursue his childhood goal of becoming an actor; his father wanted him to go to Manchester University. “Study law,” his father had said. “You can make a difference that way. Dole out justice and all that.”

Dan really didn’t want to study law, but he didn’t have much choice. He had already taken a gap year, and had promised his parents he would use his savings to go to Uni.

He spent his days in used book stores and antique shops. He wasn’t ready to try and change the world. He couldn’t even change his own outlook on life, let alone anyone else’s.

Dan sighed and took a random book off the shelf.

The bell above the dimly lit bookstore door tinkled as someone else entered.

Dan put the book back and retreated to the dusty comic book section. Meeting more people was not on his list of things to do.

He heard someone’s voice talking to the cashier, then the quiet steps of someone trying too hard not to make a sound.

Someone slightly taller than him stepped into the comic book section and started looking for something with specific purpose.

Dan decided not to make conversation, picking up the nearest book and going to the lounge area of the book shop to read it.

The man soon left, taking two books with him. Dan watched over his book as the stranger tousled his black hair as he went.

Dan left soon after, returning his book to the shelf and listening to the small tinkle of the bell as he exited the store.

***

Phil had graduated from the University of York with high marks, a degree in English Language and Linguistics, and a Master of Arts in Video Postproduction with Specialisation in Visual Effects. He was beginning a successful career as a writer, as well as having a well-paying job as a BBC radio presenter. His life was coming together. Well, except for the soulmate part. 

His coworkers looked at him with pity when his wrists were exposed. He was twenty-two years old, and he still had no idea whose eyes had been staring at him almost his whole life.

He felt the looks of pity were a little too much though. After all, it wasn’t like he was unhappy. He had friends, of course he did. He went out. Sometimes.

He did spend a lot of time alone, but it was because he liked it that way. Phil had tried and failed to explain to his friends his need to be alone. The way socializing wore him out. But they didn’t believe him, insisting that he was lonely, and that when his soulmate came along he would be happy.

***

It was only two days before Dan returned to the cute little store in one of the lesser known regions of Manchester. 

He had finally agreed with his father. He would study at Manchester. He would study law, of all things. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Well, he had only agreed try to get in. Maybe he would fail the entrance form on purpose. 

No, he couldn’t do that, he knew he couldn’t.

He was in the Mystery section, where he spent most of his time, when the bell tinkled.

He picked up a novel, not bothering to read the title, before practically running to the register and buying it.

Dan left the shop disgruntled. Why had he developed such an aversion to meeting new people?

He walked up the deserted street. The sounds of the city could be heard in the distance, but most of the shops he went to were at the edge of Manchester, away from everything.

His grandmother’s flat was only two blocks away, and the walk back was pleasant enough. The nagging in the back of his head was easily ignored with thoughts of the eyes on his wrist, the owner of whom’s identity was still, sadly, a mystery to him.

Dan rubbed his wrist absentmindedly, remembering the book he had bought on a whim. He opened up the little bag the man at the shop had put it in and admired the cover. It was all black, with a creepy looking house on the left side. “ _And Then There Were None_ , by the ‘critically acclaimed’ Queen of Mystery, Agatha Christie”, it read.

He smiled and put the book back in the bag. It looked good, and if it wasn’t, he could just return the book and get another one. It was from a used book store, after all.

***

When he returned to his grandma’s flat, his mother and grandmother were sitting at the breakfast bar discussing some sort of politics. His father was on the couch, reading the newspaper. Dan took the opportunity to slip into the room where he and his little brother were staying.

The room was one of the larger ones in the flat. Despite this, it contained very little; only a dresser and two twin sized beds with a bedside table each. Dan’s brother, Aiden, was sitting on his bed already, playing on his DS. Aiden glanced up when Dan entered, but was clearly too preoccupied with his game to pay much attention to his older brother.

Dan slumped down on his bed and took out the book. He had nothing better to do at the moment. His Grandma didn’t understand the internet, and therefore hadn’t bothered to have a router installed, and he had finished all the books he had brought with him on the trip.

And so he began to read.

_Ten little Soldier Boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine._

_Nine little Soldier Boys stayed up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight._

_Eight little Soldier Boys traveling in Devon; One said he’d stay there, and then there were seven._

_Seven little Soldier Boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six._

_Six little Soldier Boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

_Five little Soldier Boys going in for law; One got a Chancery and then there were four._

_Four little Soldier Boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three._

_Three little Soldier Boys walking in the zoo; A big bear hugged one, and then there were two._

_Two little Soldier Boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was one._

_One little Soldier Boy left all alone; He went out and hanged himself and then there were none._

Dan liked the eerie creepiness of children’s rhymes already, but putting it into the context of a murder was even better. 

He stayed up late that night reading the entire thing, and then lay awake in bed, thinking about the incredible ending.

***

Phil found himself in the dusty bookstore every day that week. None of the employees ever chastised him for using it like a library, so he assumed it was fine to sit in the plush antique armchairs, reading books he hadn’t yet bought.

He had selected an old _X-Men_ comic book today. He was surprised by how cheap they were selling the vintage sets. What would usually cost at least a hundred pounds was now being sold for twenty five.

He curled up in his favourite chair by the window on the second floor, admiring the view of the sun through the window before opening his book and beginning to read.

Phil’s concentration was broken by the soft ping of the bell announcing that the door to the shop had been opened. He sighed, stood up, and stretched. It was getting late anyways, and he had to make dinner back at his flat.

Phil decided to buy the comic he had been reading, along with the rest of the series that it went to. They were selling it for a mere _twenty-six pounds_. It was old, too; must have been from the 70s, at least.

He saw someone standing with their back to him looking through the mystery section as he passed by the shelves on the way to the register.

When he had paid, he left the shop with a full new set of comics to add to his collection.

***

Dan entered the book shop looking for something specific for the first time.

He was looking for more Agatha Christie novels.

He hurried quickly to the fiction section, kneeling down to see all of the bookstore’s options.

Dan heard someone walk behind him, but he paid no mind to the stranger as he found an entire two shelves of what he was looking for.

He grabbed the first two that caught his eye: _Death on the Nile_ and _Murder on the Orient Express._

After reading _And Then There Were None_ , he had high hopes for these two.

He took the oldest looking copies available on the shelf and brought them to the register.

The cashier smiled and said something about how he’d ‘seen you around before’.

Dan put on his most practiced fake-smile and took his change. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day.”

When Dan reached his grandmother’s house again, it was almost dusk. 

“Mum! Grandma!” he called out, setting his books on the dining room table.

“We’re on the balcony, Daniel,” he heard his father call out. 

Dan pushed open the sliding door and stepped onto the terrace. 

His mother, brother, grandmother, and father were all sitting around the round outdoor table, examining a nearly filled Scrabble board. 

“Hi Dan,” his mum said as she laid down her word. “Where were you?”

“Just at that bookshop nearby.”

“I love that place! It has so many old books for such good prices.” His grandma piped up.

Dan smiled. Finally, something he could talk about with his grandmother.

“Me too. I’ve been spending a lot of time there, and at the antique shop closer to City Center. I found some stuff by Agatha Christie there that I’ve been reading, have you heard of her?” 

He spent the rest of the night discussing Agatha Christie with his grandmother.

***

Phil was less than happy about having to take a train back to Rawtenstall to visit his parents this weekend. He was exhausted, it had been a long work week and all he wanted was to sleep in and relax all day, but no. He was here, at Manchester Piccadilly Station, at seven AM.

He yawned and kept walking. His train should be there within the next fifteen minutes.

Phil closed his eyes for a moment and-

“I am so sorry.” He had bumped into someone.

The boy was slightly shorter than him, and their eyes met, and something clicked.

***

Dan stared at the stranger for a good five seconds before tentatively raising his wrist to compare the image.

_You could go swimming in those eyes._

He smiled reverently. “It’s you.” His voice was a whisper.

The stranger grinned and held out his hand for Dan to shake. “I’m Phil.” The stranger said, in just as hushed a tone.

“Dan,” he replied.

Phil was grinning and his tongue was poking out of his mouth slightly and it was the cutest thing Dan had ever seen.

Phil pulled Dan into a hug, and it wasn’t surprising or awkward, it was just nice. Dan didn’t think he had ever been happier.

When they pulled away, Dan was blushing. He thought he could hear his mother whispering excitedly to his father, but it didn’t really matter.

Phil’s face fell.

“I, uhm- I have to catch a train.”

“Oh, ah, yeah me… me too.”

“Here.” Phil took his backpack off and took out a notebook and pencil, jotting down his number. He ripped the paper out and handed it to Dan, who took it without hesitation.

“I’ll, um… I’ll call you.” Dan smiled.

Phil smiled too.

“Bye, Dan.”

“Bye Phil.

Dan didn’t know he was crying until Phil had left, and his mother was wiping the tears off his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments are appreciated (especially negative ones, as long as it's helpful criticism) and if you liked it a kudos would be nice too. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)


End file.
